


Missing Scene - Figuring On

by OneofWebs



Series: DBH - Simon's Backstory [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, First Meetings, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Painting, Post-Canon, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: After the revolution, Markus and Simon need some place to go, at least for the moment. There's no better place than Markus' home, even if Simon is a bit concerned about the whole 'Meeting the Dad' thing. Carl is sick and bedridden, though, so the meeting isn't quite as awkward as Simon had feared. Still, there's always room for something awkward to happen.[Missing Scene from CDOH - Can be read as a stand alone]Closed Doors and Outstretched Hands





	Missing Scene - Figuring On

**Author's Note:**

> Going through some shit so we write self-indulgent stupid stuff? Yeah, that's me. I mean technically this is a missing scene from CDOH, one that my discord friends screamed for, but I wasn't really in any mood to write it until shit happened, so here we are. Simon meets Carl, Carl thinks they're dating, they're too stupid to figure themselves out--what really more is there to say?
> 
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> [Closed Doors and Outstretched Hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218696) \- if you haven't read it and are curious. This story technically can be read as a stand-alone, i left it vague enough.

November 15th, 2038- 6:45pm

What’s done was done, and it had been done to the best of their ability. Now, they were tired. There would be the rest of forever to be concerned about their people and their plight; the freedom for androids was won for the moment, but it was a war they were looking for. Even if it was a war built quietly on the foundation of words and words only, this had still only been a battle. An initial dialogue to gauge where they were, how far they could go—and they had gone far. Humans were sympathetic. There was a chance. But. That was all for another day, even if that would mean promptly the following morning before the sun had even risen. Before that moment came, they had just enough time to think of themselves, instead. Simon was tired. Markus was exhausted. Every camp had been liberated, androids were wandering about in some desperate attempt to find where they might go now, in the strange limbo that followed. In that, Markus did at least have somewhere for them to go. No rundown churches and definitely no more rusty old boats.

Simon knew where they were going, though he was silent about it. It was better not to think until they arrived, because thinking would mean muddling on about the complications that might arise. Complications were, as named, complicated. After the past nearly three years, Simon was done thinking for a night. If he could spend a night wrapped up some place warm without thinking over the meaning and the consequences of things, he might finally know what it was to be rested. If they’d been going anywhere else, he might have found this a simple task. But it wasn’t just anywhere else. This was someplace important, a home more important to Markus than a home that Simon could fathom. He’d had a home, twice before. None quite like this. He’d even had a family, but not quite like this.

Markus, after all, had called Carl his _father._ The only reprieve Simon was getting from what emotional high he’d been riding since Markus came tumbling down into Jericho was that they’d opted to ride a cab to Carl’s house instead of walking. The walk wouldn’t have been too dreadfully long, and it was snowing again. Might it have even bit a bit romantic where, sitting curled up in the passenger seat of a cab, it was awkward. Neither of them was talking, not after Markus had typed in the address, and Simon had given half of his worst effort to talk him out of it. It was the meeting Markus’ _father_ thing that bothered him, not the prospect of finally getting to spend a night to himself in Stasis.

Carl’s home was absolutely nothing like Simon had imagined, and he had imagined what they were going to be riding up on. This wasn’t some late-night rendezvous where Markus would help him out of their chariot and lead him into a manor larger than life. This was a house. A relatively modest sized house. The extravagance came in the yard, though it wasn’t particularly easy to see in the dying light of the evening. The entrance was done up like anything, with the front lights on that illuminated the growing vines up the side of the house. On its own, the door was enough to impress Simon as the cab finally came to a stop in front of the house. His attention was only momentarily grabbed as Markus _paid_ for their fare.

“I’ll explain later,” Markus told him, though the smile on his face was a bit cheeky for the evening. Simon figured it was going to be a funny story, whatever it was. Then, he waited, at Markus’ request, until Markus had rounded the side the cab and the door opened up.

“You really don’t—” Simon started, but Markus stuck his hand out anyway and helped him out of the cab. Simon was learning quickly, and Markus was quite the teacher, that he had a soft spot for these hopelessly, stupidly romantic acts. There was no _reason_ that Markus needed to help him out of the car, but he did, and he did it with as wide a smile as he could muster for how exhausted he was. Tired was strewn out all over his face; if Androids could somehow produce the infamous eye bags, Markus would have some. Instead, it was just the way his eyes were only half open, and his lips were lax.

Simon followed wordlessly behind as they walked up the snow-covered path, still with clasped hands. Behind them, the car drove off. Before them, the door sat just as quiet as the rest of the house. It reacted not a second after they’d reached the stoop; the lights lit up in the foyer, the door swung open, and—

_Welcome home, Markus._

The same giddy feeling that had risen up in Markus the first time he’d heard that voice after everything that happened was still there, still bright and warm in his chest. Just the knowledge that Carl had never once lost faith in him, not through the fight in the studio, not through deviancy, and certainly not through what he’d no doubt heard over the news, from his new android, was enough to keep Markus going. And now, he got to bring Simon here, even through his reservations about the visit. Markus had no need to worry, though; he knew that Carl would be more than happy to let them stay, at least until it was time for them to move on to whatever came after this.

Simon had been more worried about actually _meeting_ Carl, given the relation, but he’d kept that mostly to himself. Markus knew, regardless; it was something important to humans, and the last time Simon had any real relationship with a human, it handed ended particularly well for him. It was something to be careful of, though Markus didn’t think he’d see a situation like that repeated. Still, and he looked back at Simon as they moved into the house, it was something to worry for. Something Markus knew he needed to be cautious of, and he was ever so cautious with Simon, always afraid that the slightest little word or action might remind him of a darker time. So, when he pulled Simon into his arms, he was slow. When Simon stepped into him willingly, that was the best indicator that it was fine.

If he remembered, and he did, North had called him _tedious_ at some point. That was just fine.

“You’re back,” a sudden, disinterested and unimpressed voice rang out from atop the staircase. Markus looked back over his shoulder but kept his arms around Simon for the moment. He wanted to live like that for at least a moment longer before dealing with this.

He was glad that the android hadn’t immediately left, though. This was the same android he’d seen on his visit to Carl not a day or so ago. The circumstance had been less pleasant, and the only way past the android was to turn him deviant. Still, the android hadn’t left. Apparently, now with his very own personality, he was a bit of a stickler and none too happy to see Markus again. At least, after seeing Simon, he softened slightly. Two of them meant this wasn’t just some unsolicited social call, at least, and he had heard about what had happened. Though, the radio had since long been turned off.

“We needed a place to go. If it’s an issue—” Markus started, but the android shook his head.

“He’s awake, you can ask him yourself” and he stepped off to the side.

“Thank you,” Markus said, then looked back to Simon. Simon had since made himself quite comfortable with his head laying on Markus’ shoulder so he could at least attend the conversation, even if he hadn’t spoken.

“You don’t have to come up with me, I can explain the situation,” came Markus’ offer.

“I’ll come up.”

“Are you sure? If you’re not ready, I wouldn’t want to make you.”

“I’ll never be ready,” Simon laughed quietly, pulling back, but not so much that he had to unwind his arms from Markus’ middle. “I might as well do it now while I’m too tired to think about it.”

Markus took a hold of his chin to bend his head, just enough to kiss his forehead and then pull back completely.

The staircase was incredibly grand, double wide with a beautifully crafted banister. The foyer itself was filled with wondrous works of art that left Simon hoping that he’d be able to get a full tour of what else this house had in store. Maybe Markus would even take him out to the studio—he did know who Carl Manfred was. Even if he hadn’t before Markus, it wasn’t particularly hard to search him up. There had been a horrible amount of details that Simon hadn’t had much interest in, so he took away from it that Carl was an incredibly skilled artist, and Markus cared for him deeply. The artistry was on display throughout the entire house, and out in the strange excuse of a hallway, Simon could see down into the living area at more strange things. A tour would definitely be in order, but first—Markus led them down to the end of the path to a door.

Even before it opened, Simon could hear the static beeping of the machines. When it did open, he could _see_ the machines and every which way Carl was hooked up to them, lying in a bed that was more hospital than comfort, but in contrast to it all, Carl was sitting upright and reading and old book. An actual book. The sound of the door didn’t seem to bother him, and he didn’t look up. All he did was turn a page and settle a little deeper against the pillows. He didn’t even register until Markus had approached the side of the bed.

“Nikolai, I told you I’m—” then Carl looked up, “fine,” he finished. He broke into a smile. “Oh, Markus.”

“Hello, Carl.”

“You’re back already? I thought for sure I wouldn’t be seeing you again for a long time,” and he set his book off to the side, closed. It was an absent-minded set; he hadn’t even set a bookmark or a dog-ear to mark his place.

“Well, things went better than we thought. Did you hear about it?”

“On the news?” Carl filled in. “I did, I did. All of it happening live, though,” and he laughed at this part, “Nikolai took my radio. He seems different, that one.”

“I might have, well,” Markus rubbed at the side of his face. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, not at all,” another laugh. “He’s got some bite to him now.”

“Really? He still seems a little stuck up.”

Carl’s laugh turned into a dreadful coughing fit this time, which prompted Markus to sit on the bed an attend to him. From his place near the door, Simon could see Markus’ past play out before him. He’d seen it well enough, through Markus’ eyes, but this was something different. This was getting to watch Markus fret about like some kind of dainty old hen, which was endearing, in a way. That same attitude came to play throughout man of their own interactions, though they weren’t quite intense enough for Simon to mind or pay close attention. This was something special, though. Markus had passed over a glass of water, put a sturdy hand on Carl’s back, and sat there unwavering until the coughing had subsided. Markus hadn’t had any _real_ purpose for his creation, so he’d said before. He was just an android, nothing specific. Not like Simon was specifically for house and childcare, or how North was a Traci Doll, or how Josh had been a professor. But Simon saw through that. Markus’ purpose had been Carl, whatever that entailed.

“So,” Carl acted as though nothing had happened, “what brings you back?”

“Well,” and Markus motioned back towards the door, where Simon had gone entirely unnoticed of his own accord. Though, now that he was being pointed at, even in the shadows it was hard to miss him.

“My,” Carl mused, “and who’s this?”

“I’m Simon,” he stepped forward, “sir,” tacked on awkwardly to the end.

“Oh, please,” Carl shook his hand, “none of that crap. Just call me Carl.”

Simon nodded. Markus went straight in for the kill.

“He’s my—well,” Markus rubbed the back of his neck now. “He’s important,” he managed rather dumbly. “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I stayed for a bit, but…?”

Carl made a show of patting Markus on the shoulder, “I heard the news, Markus. ‘The androids are kissing’—I always thought you’d go for someone shorter.”

“Carl—!”

Carl waved Markus off and _almost_ laughed, “he can stay, you both can. I have no problem with it.” Then he looked at Simon. “Simon was it? Come over here.”

Simon did as he was bade and stepped across the room to the end of the bed, though he kept his eyes down, even as he played his fingers over the bed frame. He was nervous and unsure of what exactly to say. There wasn’t _much_ to say, outside of the uneasy niceties. Though, given what they’d just been through, there probably was no real easy way to ask: ‘what did you do before you were free?”.

“Simon actually started our cause,” Markus said. Simon would’ve stopped him, would’ve said _anything_ to get him to retract that statement, but the utter look of awe written over Markus’ face kept him quiet. “He was the first one to offer me a place to stay after, well.”

Carl nodded, “I’m glad you made it. I never got to say that before, but—”

“I’m just glad Leo’s alright,” Markus admitted before he could stop himself. Carl gave him a soft smile and nodded.

“We’re meeting for lunch. You’re both more than welcome to attend. It’s nothing fancy,” and he gestured to their surroundings, “seeing as how I’m stuck here.”

“We’ll stay out of your way, if it’s all the same to you,” Markus answered for the both of them, and Simon was grateful.

“So, you start all this,” Carl had swapped subjects immediately, looking over at Simon, “and you let him take over? He must’ve made a good first impression.”

Simon shrugged, “he rather fell from the rafters and caused quite a commotion,” his smile was fond. “After that, he started talking like he owned the place, and we just followed his lead. It was about time for a change.”

“Ha! That does sound like Markus. Seems like it all worked out, though.”

“It did. It was hard, but I’m glad we pulled through. Markus is already thinking about the next steps. Washington D.C., he said,” Simon grinned.

“That’s a bit far. You intend to talk to the President herself, then?”

Markus nodded, “there’s no sense in letting our people wander free if we’ve got nothing in place to protect them. Someone should be able to speak for that.”

Then there was a knock at the door.

“Ah, that would be the warden,” Carl hummed. “Best be getting on your way, then. Make yourselves at home, and Simon—it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You, too,” Simon smiled. He offered a wave before they both headed out of the bedroom.

Nikolai, as his name was apparently, gave Markus a sideways glare, but stepped into the room around them with a tray in his hands. After that, it was the tour that Simon hadn’t even asked for. He got to see the silly things like the android-birds and the too-large-kitchen, the finer things like the paintings and the sculptures. There was a piano surrounded by walls and walls of books, then off by the window sat a lone chessboard. Simon recognized them all in a strange sort of way, like a dream. Anything that was missing, Markus filled in. Carl had encouraged him to learn the piano, offered him—showered him with—all different types of books.

“You even read Freud?” Simon asked, wincing.

“Yeah. He was bad,” Markus laughed.

Simon agreed wholeheartedly.

Markus promised Simon his own private concert when it wasn’t so late, and they didn’t have Carl to worry about. That led them directly to the studio, though Markus hadn’t ever announced it as such. He had simply walked up to the door and stood aside as it slid open, ushering Simon through. The rest, Simon was smart enough to figure out. Paint and canvases were scattered everywhere, brushes and rolled up drafts. Everything about it was such neat chaos, but as Markus walked through pointing things out, Simon hadn’t gotten much farther than the door. All but one canvas had been covered, even as the studio was protected from the elements, Simon figured it was still better to cover them. One, however, was left open. It was the one he was staring at.

The picture was something dark, yet hopeful in the same vain. The visage of hands, outstretched; one set was a stark blue, while the other was a muddy red. But, even as the two set of hands were set to such contrast, they were reaching for one another, like they might share the same basin or come together in a firm handshake. Whatever it _was_ , it was beautiful. It had caught Simon’s eyes, and everything else drowned out around him. Markus was somewhere, tripping over a paint can—he could hear the metal ting. But that was all. Words were lost on him as he just stared. Stared and stared until there were arms suddenly around his waist and he nearly jumped.

“You’re not listening,” Markus said.

“Sorry,” Simon muttered. He relaxed back into Markus’ hold, tilting his head to the side so Markus had a place to set his chin and look over his shoulder. He saw the painting.

“Did Carl paint this?” Simon asked. It didn’t look much like anything they’d seen on the tour, or Simon had glanced at out in the studio, but Carl didn’t seem like the type to stick to one style. It wasn’t out of the question, but he felt Markus shake his head.

“I did.”

That gave Simon pause. He shifted that he might rest his hands over Markus’, which had since clasped together at the waistband of his pants. The longer Simon stared at the painting, the less he knew what to say about it. In the end, he managed something.

“It’s lovely.”

Markus kissed him on the cheek, idly. “You think so? Carl always encouraged me to paint, but I’d never done anything from myself before this. It was always a perfect copy of the world around me,” and he gestured to a discarded canvas on the nearby table, where Simon could see a literal perfect copy of the studio painted out.

“I painted this one with my eyes closed,” he continued, shifting his hold to lean onto Simon’s other shoulder. “It was the only way I knew how to do it.”

“With your eyes closed? That’s—well, I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Probably not.”

Simon snorted, “full of yourself, are you?”

“Only when I’m with you,” he squeezed Simon’s middle and smiled. “I was thinking about our people when I painted it. My ideal future where androids and humans could come to an understanding.”

“I hope it can come to that,” Simon suddenly shifted again, turning in Markus’ hold until he could put his hands up to his face. “If it’s you, we have a sure chance at it, I think.”

“You’ll be there with me, won’t you?” he asked almost as if he was afraid that Simon wouldn’t follow him.

“Not that I’ll be much help, but I’ll be there. I’ll go wherever you do.”

That sounded—god, Markus could cry just hearing that. Instead, he pressed a solid kiss to Simon’s mouth and smiled into it, holding him as close as they could manage without, well. It was cold outside, and even with the glass around the studio, it was seeping through and all around them. They went back inside, after that, where Markus ushered Simon over to a couch instead. Markus sat directly in the center of it, which might have been a cruel trick, but it ensured that Simon wouldn’t be able to worm off to his own corner. More than just a trick, it was selfish. Markus _needed_ Simon near him right now, even if Simon would never understand that feeling. He needed him, so he held Simon’s hands when they sat.

“You’ll come with me to Washington?” Markus asked.

Simon nodded.

“What if that takes us all over the nation? What if we travel to different countries to spread our message there?”

“I hope someone is paying for the fare, then,” Simon muttered. “Neither of us have jobs.”

Markus laughed. That would be a step, one day, jobs. Androids being allowed to have jobs and get _paid_ for the work they did. For now, Markus leaned in close and confessed his secret. Carl had never cut him off, not once. Simon had seen that in how the front door had disarmed and opened for him immediately, but it had gone farther. It was how he paid for the cab fare. He hadn’t actually taken advantage of this before the cab, fearful that it might leave a trail directly to him, but now it wasn’t so bad. If Carl hadn’t wanted to be the secret sponsor of the android revolution, well, he would’ve taken Markus off his accounts. Carl was, by no means, a destitute man. After the story, Simon just rolled his eyes.

“I do have one question, though,” Simon said.

“Ask away.”

“Why did you tell him that _I_ started this? I didn’t have anything—”

“You did, though,” Markus said, like he meant it. Like he _believed_ it, which made Simon wince and scrunch up his nose. “Jericho wouldn’t have ever existed without you; you have to know that.”

“No, no I don’t. Jericho would’ve been fine without me, I—”

“Simon,” Markus squeezed his hands. “I _saw_ your memories. I know what you did for Jericho, things that nobody else did. I just wish you’d believe me,” which trailed off with a decidedly not amused chuckle. “Maybe it’s just my perception, but without you, I don’t think there would have been a Jericho for me to lead. I mean—you brought Josh there, you were there for North,” another memory that Simon hadn’t meant to share, but did. Thankfully, Markus had kept quiet about it. “And the four of us—the _four_ of us,” he emphasized, “brought this revolution to the point we’re at now.”

“I…suppose,” he sniffed. That was how Markus saw him. There was no room to be bitter about Markus having led them to victory when Simon had failed, because that wasn’t the reality that Markus was looking at, not the one he was talking about. He was talking about a reality where Simon had held Jericho together for years, until Markus could get there. He’d done everything he could to keep them from dying out completely, to bring together the eventual _leaders_ of their revolution. Markus counted him among those leaders.

“You’ll see it one day. I’ll show you.”

Simon didn’t have the energy to argue anymore, not over this. If Markus really wanted to see him as some kind of great protector of their people, then fine. He wouldn’t stop him. He would, however, lean forward until his forehead hit Markus’ chest and complain that he was tired and hadn’t had a moment’s rest since Markus made his unruly and wild entrance into Jericho. Which wasn’t at all true. There had been some rest, though none of it had been particularly peaceful. The time he’d spent at Stratford Tower had most certainly been rest.

“Well,” and Markus stroked through his hair, “Carl only has one guest room.”

Which sounded a lot like Markus was telling him that there was a bed, but only one of them.

“I’ll show you,” Markus was standing, completely oblivious to Simon’s sudden heart attack. He led Simon through the house until they’d arrived at this mysterious guest room, which was relatively small and tucked off to the side. Markus told him some story about how it hadn’t been an original part of the house, just an addition some time before he’d even arrived to care for Carl. That story trailed off into an awkward little laugh; something about meeting Leo later. Still, it was a guest room.

There was one bed, as Simon figured, set up in the middle of the room with night stands on either side. The bedspread was relatively plain, given just whose guest room this was, but the walls were painted murals all their own. Beautiful and lively, only stopped by the two wall lamps that had been installed. Overhead was a ceiling fan, which seemed to stick out strangely in the surrounding extravagance. Something about it was quaint, though. It matched the same dark wood of the nightstands and the dresser, the frame of the mirror, even the door to the closet. None of which actually changed Simon’s fear about this, especially when Markus sat down on the bed to kick off his shoes.

“Are we—” Simon squeaked it out, then covered his mouth.

Markus looked at him with wide eyes. “Are you alright?” He was up across the floor before Simon could even say anything, fretting about like he always did.

“I’m— _fine_ , I’m not going to explode,” he kept Markus at arm’s length. “It’s just, I just—are we going to _share_ or—?”

Markus blinked. “I mean, we could? If you want to—I was just going to let you get settled. I don’t really, or I never really got into the habit of sleeping, I guess. Not on a schedule.”

So, Simon’s panic had been completely unfounded.

“If you want me to stay—”

“No, that’s just what I was afraid of,” he let out a bitter laugh. “I hope that’s not—I don’t want to be rude or upset you or—”

“Simon,” Markus quieted him, “whatever you want is fine. I’m not going to, well,” he didn’t want to _say it_ , not out loud. It was easy enough to let it rest on his refusal to do anything that made Simon uncomfortable. His past was still living with him, after all.

“Thank you,” Simon breathed.

In the morning, they would eat breakfast with Carl, and Simon would tell him anything he wanted to know. Within reason. Simple things like his model number, the child he cared for, and maybe just about how he’d found his way to Jericho. Come lunch, they would stand awkwardly in the foyer while Markus introduced him to Leo, and then they would stay off to themselves as promised. Until, then, Markus kissed him, then kissed him again for good measure. After their first kiss, surrounded by soldiers, it was like Markus couldn’t get enough of these normal ones, where they didn’t have their lives depending on some unforeseen outcome. Simon rather liked it, too. When they finished, though, Markus kissed him _again_ , on the cheek this time, before bidding him a good night and disappearing out the door.

Simon had earned a good Stasis, and he flopped into that bed like it’s all he’d been dreaming of. Somewhere, between the dropped shoes and listening to the door shut, it certainly had been.

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about making a twitter :Y


End file.
